


A Thousand Miles to Get There

by alakewood



Series: Distance 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alakewood/pseuds/alakewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's not quite sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line he and Sam started messing around – it started with chaste kisses and graduated to more physical expressions of their desire. And, at some point, he fell in love with his little brother. Now, while on a cross-country roadtrip with his family, in the deceptive privacy of their RV, Dean has to prove to Sam that going away to college isn't going to change how he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Miles to Get There

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/alakewood/pic/0002ezgk/)

They're stopped for the rest of the day at some bare-bones RV park just off an arrow-straight stretch of highway in southern Wyoming. Dean steps down from their “summer home” to an expansive view of rolling, rocky hills and endless blue skies. He rounds the camper to take in the sight across the highway – looming in the distance is the solitary peak of Elk Mountain. Or, maybe, Rock Mountain. He's not too sure which it is because he was just starting to wake from his nap when his mother explained where they were stopping.

His parents come up behind him, his mom armed with her camera, always documenting everything. “Go get Sammy,” she tells him. “I want to get a picture.”

Dean heaves a forced put-upon sigh and stalks back around the RV. Sam's still inside, up in the cabover bunk, sprawled across the bed playing Call of Duty. Dean widens the gap in the half-drawn curtains and leans against the ladder, arms folded over the edge of the mattress. “Picture time. Mom's orders.”

As expected, Dean's answered with attitude. It's like the further west they get, the moodier Sam gets. With each passing mile, Sam becomes that much bitchier. Dean's about ready to call him out on it and they're barely a third of the way through summer. Per typical Sam, he rolls his eyes and makes a big show of saving his game and turning off his Xbox and the TV. It's not like _Dean_ 's the one asking for a favor.

Dean backs away from the ladder and heads outside to wait for his brother. He's not really used to this side of Sam. Sure, he's caught glimpses of it here and there as Sam's matured into a teenager, but rarely has the attitude stuck. Sam's been alternately emo and hostile for weeks. Dean doesn't know what to do to fix this or help, isn't sure if it's something he did or didn't do. “Sammy?” he tries as Sam exits the camper, but Sam just dodges his outstretched hand. He's forced to try a different tactic – anything to get _some_ kind of reaction. “That time of the month, Sammy?” he questions loudly as he trails Sam back around to the other side of the RV.

Sam flips him off discreetly while his mother swats his arm once he's withing her reach. “ _Dean,_ ” she admonishes, pulling Sam under her right arm, their dad at her left side, mountains behind them all and the camera on its tripod in the RV's shadow. “Be nice to your brother.”

“Sorry, Ma,” Dean half-heartedly apologizes, pressing in close to Sam.

For all his posturing, Sam relaxes against the line of Dean's body and this- this is the Sam Dean misses.

Family photo op duties complete, their dad heads off to hook up the electric and water while their mom gathers up her camera and tripod to capture some more memories for her digital scrapbook of “Winchester Family Roadtrip, 2011.” Sam's still standing close so Dean ducks down, lets his nose graze against soft hair and softer skin behind Sam's ear. “Sammy,” he breathes, hands moving to gently hold Sam's hips. “You okay?” They haven't been like this since before Dean graduated.

Sam leans into the touch for the briefest of moments before pulling away, gaze purposefully avoiding Dean's. “Yeah,” he says, voice low, almost as deep as Dean's. “I'm fine.” He walks away and doesn't look back.

Later, after dinner while their parents are off mingling with the only other visitors to the campground – an old retired couple from the looks of it, with their behemoth RV that could pass for some kind of rock band's tour bus – Dean corners Sam. He climbs up into the overhead bunk with him, effectively blocks any attempt Sam might make at escaping. Without warning, he leans in and covers Sam's mouth with his own.

Sam reacts almost immediately, lips parting, Funyun-flavored tongue sliding into Dean's mouth. He makes a small sound low in his throat as he pushes the Xbox controller aside and turns fully towards Dean. He slots one of his lanky thighs between Dean's and fits himself – complete and total contact, from hips to chest – against Dean's body, kissing him all messy and desperate.

“Whoa, there, Sammy,” Dean chuckles, easing out of the kiss, framing Sam's face with his hands. “What's the rush? I'm not going anywhere.”

Sam's eyes dim and he extracts himself from Dean's hold. “Liar.” He rolls onto his side, back to Dean, and curls in on himself.

Dean suddenly, finally, understands. “Hey,” he whispers, pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss to the back of Sam's neck as he molds himself to the curve of Sam's spine. “Sammy. I'm not-”

“ _Don't,_ ” Sam begs, throwing a sharp elbow into Dean's ribs. He sniffles and draws in a shaky breath. “Just...don't.”

Dean feels the inch of distance between them like a physical wound. He can only lay there for a couple more minutes watching Sam's shoulders tremble with his silent sobs before he can't stand it anymore. He backs down the ladder, pulls the curtains closed, then escapes into the quiet darkness outside. The air is crisp and fresh, and a slow, deep breath does nothing to clear Dean's head or ease the ache in his chest. He's ready to be done with this whole godforsaken family roadtrip if this is how it's going to affect Sam.

A gentle breeze rolls through the valley carrying the sound of laughter and the scent of campfire. Dean slowly rounds the RV and heads over to where his parents and the retirees sit around a small bonfire. As he nears the group of four, he realizes the other couple aren't nearly as old as he'd originally guessed. The Singers – Bobby and his wife, Karen – are roadtripping cross-country same as they are, except they've got no real destinations in mind. They like the adventure of it, meeting new people wherever they go – and Dean can definitely see the appeal in that. There's a magnetic map of the United States by the door of the RV, every state except California, Oregon, Washington, and Idaho accounted for.

“So, your dad, here, tells me you're a pretty good ball player,” Mr. Singer says, interrupting Dean's mental tally of the states _he_ 's been to.

“Uh, yes, sir. I've got a scholarship to go play for Mizzou,” he offers with an embarrassed smile.

“Off to be a Tiger, huh?” Mr. Singer laughs.

“Yeah. Dad won't let me forget it, either.”

“You're going over to the dark side,” his dad jokes, shaking his head. At Mr. Singer's slightly confused look, he explains. “Mary and I were Jayhawks. KU and Mizzou are arch rivals. The Border War goes back to, what? Eighteen-”

“Eighteen ninety-one,” Dean supplies.

Again, his dad shakes his head. “Traitor.”

“If Kansas had offered a better deal-”

His mom clasps her tiny fingers around one of his hands, kisses the back of it. “I know, baby.”

Now, completely and utterly embarrassed, Dean pulls his hand free from his mother's loose grasp. “I'm gonna go see if Sam wants to watch a movie or something,” he says as he backs away. “It was nice meeting you all.” He hightails it before his parents can do any more damage to his pride or dignity.

The camper's silent when Dean climbs inside. The curtains are still closed on the overhead bunk and the light is shut off. If Sam's awake – and he probably is because Dean's only been gone for all of fifteen minutes – then he probably knows Dean's standing right there at the base of the ladder. “Sam?”

“What?” Sam's voice is muffled and quiet.

“Can I come up?”

“You're gonna do whatever you want to anyway.”

Dean climbs the ladder and pushes through the curtains. “It's not like I'm _leaving_ leaving. I'll be back all the time. And, beside, you're gonna be in high school this year – you'll be so busy you probably won't even notice I'm gone.” Dean's stomach rolls a little at that – the idea of Sam not missing him, or worse yet, finding someone his own age that he wants to be with – and he moves closer to his brother.

Sam shudders out a breath as he rolls over, whispers, “I miss you already.” Any other time Dean would give him shit for acting like such a girl but, right now, he can't. All he can do is pull Sam's body up against his and kiss him hard. “I'm still right here. We've got time before I- before I have to go.”

Sam clings to him like he's holding on for his life, hands curled into fists where he clutches the thin cotton of Dean's tee right over his heart. “I wish you didn't have to.”

“It's just college. It's not forever.”

“That's what it feels like.”

Dean trails nipping kisses up the side of Sam's neck, along his jaw, and over his chin. He settles over Sam, braced on his forearms, fingers brushing Sam's hair away from his eyes. “It's not forever,” he repeats, dips down to press his lips to Sam's. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Sam's eyes shine in the darkness, pale glow of moonlight through the small sliding window above their heads highlighting the soft angles of his face. His chin quivers and he offers Dean a small half-smile as he nods. “Yeah. I know.”

Dean kisses him again and awkwardly rolls away in the small space towards the TV. He feels Sam's curious eyes on him as he rifles around for a DVD and loads it into the Xbox, starts it with the volume low. He crawls back up Sam's body and reaches out of the bunk to the shelf above the sleeper couch where he'd shoved his backpack and pulls out a small bottle of hand lotion. “I promise you, Sammy: I could be as far away as the _moon_ and it wouldn't change how I feel.”

Sam wraps his arms around Dean's back as he spreads his thighs, rolls his hips up into Dean's and buries his face in his neck. “I love you, too,” he whispers, lips catch-dragging against Dean's skin.

The opening credits to the movie are just starting when Dean works a hand into Sam's loose basketball shorts and palms the hardness of Sam's dick through the damp cotton of his briefs. Sam arches up into the touch and tightens his hold around Dean's shoulders. “I'd never hurt you.”

Sam's breath catches in his throat on a gasp when Dean's fingers slip behind his balls and press against his hole through his underwear. “I know,” he whimpers. This is about as far as they've gone – handjobs, mostly, a couple of blowjobs – but they haven't done _this._ Sam's legs fall further apart in the confines of the bunk. “Please.”

There's a sound outside, then the door opens, their parents finally ending their night with their neighbors of sorts. “You kids still up?” their dad asks.

Dean extracts his hand from Sam's shorts and rolls off of his brother, pokes his head out between the curtains. “Yeah. Just watching a movie. Don't worry – we'll be quiet.”

“Okay. Goodnight, boys,” their mother says.

“'Night, Mom,” Dean says, “Dad.”

Behind him, Sam shouts out, “G'night!” His hand is curled around Dean's hip, fingertips pressing hard.

Dean watches them wander back to their room, waits for the door to close before ducking back into the bunk and closing the curtains, double-checking that they overlap completely. “You gotta be real quiet for me, Sammy, okay?”

Sam licks his lips and nods, shimmies out of his shorts and briefs and lets his legs fall apart.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy.” Dean settles on his knees between Sam's calves and hunches over his own thighs to get his mouth on Sam's dick. Sam's hands are instantly buried in his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp, and Dean's got to pull off, little slick _pop_ , to hush his brother. “Shh.”

“I'm trying.” Sam bites his bottom lip and sucks in a harsh breath through his nose, half-lidded eyes focused on Dean.

Dean nods and goes back to work, slicks up a finger with lotion and slides it behind Sam's balls. Sam's hips jerk as his fingertip presses against the puckered flesh, but Dean doesn't hesitate. What makes him pause is the sound of his parents' bedroom door opening, then movement out in the main area, his mom or dad getting something to drink or- No, they're brushing their teeth. He holds Sam's gaze. “Be quiet,” he reminds, pushes his finger all the way in and watches Sam's eyes widen in surprise.

Their parents no more than ten feet away, thin, navy blue curtain hiding them from view, Sam rocks up against Dean's hand, taking his finger deeper. He lets out a quiet groan that's nearly more breath than sound, and Dean can't exactly blame him.

Dean draws two fingers through the mess of lotion gathered outside of Sam's hole and pushes them both in slowly, scissors them, crooks them up at angle to brush against that spot he knows is just right _there_ from his own self-exploration. He takes Sam's dick back into his mouth, matches the slide of his lip-covered teeth with the thrust of his fingers. A hard press against Sam's prostate has him coming suddenly down Dean's throat.

“ _Dean,_ ” Sam whines, tugging none too gently at Dean's hair.

Fingers still working Sam's ass, Dean crawls up Sam's body and kisses him hard, lets Sam taste himself on Dean's tongue, swallows all the little sounds Sam makes. “You're gonna feel so good, Sammy,” he whispers against the shell of Sam's ear. “Make it so good for you.”

“Shit, Dean. Are we...?” At Dean's nod, Sam's fingers fumble at his waistband, unfasten the button of his jeans and drag down the zipper. Sam's breath hitches again as he wraps Dean's cock in his fist. “ _God._ Want it.”

The water in the bathroom shuts off and Dean can hear his parents shuffling back towards their room, but he doesn't hear their door close. The possibility of getting caught makes his dick throb in Sam's tight grip. This has to be the craziest, stupidest thing he's ever done. But it's the hottest, too. He sinks a third finger into the sucking heat of Sam's ass. “So greedy for it, aren't you?”

Sam arches up into Dean and grunts an aborted moan at the stretch of Dean's fingers working and twisting inside of him. “C'mon, Dean.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Roll over for me.”

“But, Dean-”

“It'll hurt less.”

“I wanna see you.”

“Sam.”

“Please?”

Dean sighs, nods, claims Sam's mouth in a slow kiss. “I need you to hold onto your knees for me.” He sits on his heels and takes Sam's calves into his hands, pushes Sam's knees up toward his ears. Dean slicks his cock up with a squirt of lotion and moves up between Sam's thighs, hands braced on either side of Sam's head as he positions himself at Sam's entrance. “Gonna have to relax for me, okay?” he says, taking himself in hand and slowly pressing in until the head of his cock disappears into Sam's body.

Sam wraps his legs around Dean's lower back, tilts his hips a little higher to ease the press of Dean sinking into him. He bites at his bottom lip, drops his head back onto the thin pillow exposing the pale length of his neck. Dean's mouth is on him immediately, careful not to bruise.

Something gets blown up on the movie, the explosion muffling Dean's groan as he bottoms out. “You okay?” he asks breathlessly.

Panting silently beneath him, Sam nods, tightens the grip of his legs over Dean's sweat-slick back where his t-shirt has ridden up. “ _Dean._ ”

“I know, Sammy. I know.” He slowly pulls out, presses back. He has to take it painstakingly slow, can't move too fast and risk rocking the camper. Besides that, he doesn't want to hurt Sam, either. “You're doing so good. _So good._ ”

Sam's hands make their way to Dean's hair, fingers clutching at the short strands to drag Dean's mouth up from his neck. They kiss as unhurriedly as Dean fucks him.

The credits finish running and the movie goes back to the main menu, some low, alt-rock melody playing over and over as tendrils of heat and energy curl around the base of his spine and snake outwards towards his fingers and toes, pool in his belly. “God, Sammy. Love you so much. Never gonna hurt you.”

Between them, Sam's hard again, head of his dick leaking and smearing precome against Dean's belly. Dean's hand has barely curled around him before he's shaking and moaning into Dean's open mouth, coming hard and sticky over Dean's fingers. His orgasm sets the smooth muscles encasing Dean into an erratic flutter.

The feel of Sam's tight hole clenching around his dick sends Dean over the edge and he spills his release into his brother, teeth gritted together, face buried in Sam's sweaty neck to stifle the moan he can't hold back. He has enough presence of mind to gently pull out of Sam and roll to the side. As soon as he's caught his breath, he reaches for his underwear, uses them to wipe Sam's come from both their bodies, his own where it's leaking from Sam's hole.

Sam whimpers at the drag of the cotton over his sensitive skin. He reaches for Dean, curls his fingers around the back of his neck to pull him down. Their noses graze, their faces so close together, and he smiles up at Dean. “Thank you,” he whispers then presses his lips to Dean's chastely.

Dean just holds Sam near, keeps their mouths crushed together. “I love you,” Dean tells him again when they finally separate to breathe. He needs to make sure Sam is _hearing_ him, even if it makes him feel a little silly saying the words aloud.

Sam kisses him quickly then collapses down to the mattress. “Love you, too.” He watches as Dean struggles back into his jeans and shuts off the TV, accepts Dean's help in getting his underwear and shorts back on. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks as Dean starts down the ladder.

Dean leans over and kisses him again. He doesn't know how he's supposed to give this up when he goes away to school. “Yeah. Just let me get ready for bed quick.”

“Mmkay,” Sam says, eyes are already drifting closed.

Dean smiles at the sight and quickly gathers a clean pair of underwear and an old pair of cut-off sweats before changing and washing up in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Sam's asleep when he climbs back up into the bunk and Dean just settles against Sam's side, throwing an arm over his stomach and holding him close. “We'll be okay,” he whispers into Sam's ear, a sweat-damp curl of his brother's hair tickling his lips. “I promise.”


End file.
